Let Me Count the Ways
by wrendering
Summary: A short one-shot of Hatake Kakashi's thoughts on his wife in the early hours of the morning. Now a series of snapshots of the defining moments of their relationship.
1. Year 21: A Lazy Morning

Just a short one-shot that I couldn't stop thinking about when I should have been sleeping. Of course, nothing belongs to me. 

* * *

Hatake Kakashi was a very lucky man.

Of course, part of his luck was the fact that his wife wore next to nothing to bed – the blankets she alternately hogged and pushed away as she tossed and turned only haphazardly covered her body. To her credit as a kunoichi, she had developed the remarkable ability to do this in complete silence. She often joked that her greatest skill as a ninja was her capacity to steal an entire town's worth of blankets whilst unconscious. Not that Kakashi minded his wife's thrashing, of course; he relished the mornings when he woke to her clinging to his ramrod straight form, her leg slung across his and her face burrowed into his shoulder.

"Hmmmm?" she murmured.

"I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking something, and interrupted my sleep." There it was, that light, teasing tone that used to so irritate him in their genin days, which could now only serve to make him smile softly.

"I was just _thinking_ ," he imitated, "that I have to meet my new genin team today. I'm sure that there's an old lady who needs help crossing the whole of Konoha before I do so."

"Does the old lady, by any chance, need to navigate the road of life? You're going to need new excuses soon, or people will stop pretending to believe you. For example, maybe you could say that your harpy of a wife demanded you stay and have a proper breakfast for once."

"Only if I make it. Don't think I forgot the laxative incident. If I'd been any less paranoid at that age I would have completely fallen for it."

"Jerk," she huffed as she glared at him, "I was _twelve._ How many ways do I have to apologise before you agree to never bring it up again?"

He gave her a lazy smile as he kissed the corner of her mouth.

"When it stops being fun, of course."

 _Yes_ , he thought as he wrapped an arm around her and held her close, _I'm a very lucky man indeed._

* * *

What do you think? I want to expand this into a long series of one shots, developing the characters a little more, but honestly I have no idea how I'm gonna do it.

Edit: I have no idea what went wrong with the formatting before! Hopefully it's been fixed now and people can actually read it without having to sift through all the p class stuff.


	2. Year 1: First Impressions

Thank you so much for the kind reviews! I was thrilled to when the notifications came through, as they were especially encouraging in pushing me to expand this fic. I've decided to do bits and pieces of their lives, (right now I'm aiming to do it chronologically, though it may change depending on what inspires me), so here's the next part. If I seem like I have a concrete plan that extends past "write at 4am and struggle to figure out how five year olds would speak", be assured that I don't. As always, I own nothing.

* * *

They were five when they first met. She noticed him first, stood outside the academy doors, because it was rather hard to miss the bright silver hair. In the next moment, his hair became a secondary thought as he looked in her direction, eyes scanning the area like it was a battlefield.

"Why on earth is a five year old wearing a mask?," her mother asked, incredulity coloring her tone.

"Oh, Kakashi was rather insistent on it for his first day at the academy. Beats me where he got the idea though." Sakumo's warm voice answered with more politeness than the question deserved. To her credit, Saito Manami had the decency to look slightly ashamed. Only slightly. Trying to salvage the situation, she tried to make a joke.

"Maybe he hopes it'll become his trademark one day. When I was younger I was convinced my hairstyle would be carved onto the mountain." A short laugh, then a pause.

"This must be your daughter," Sakumo continued, when the silence threatened to become awkward. "Maybe she and Kakashi will become good friends."

"Oh, of course. Masaru's always been good at making friends. In fact, the other day-"

But Masaru would never find out what she had done the other day, as she was finally ushered into the academy. Beyond relieved, she said her goodbye and rushed inside; adults and adult small talk were still inexplicable to her, and she had little patience or understanding for the usual polite exchanges. Secretly, however, she wondered if what Sakumo had said would come true. She had always had a keen interest in unusual people, and a masked boy definitely fit into that category – perhaps he could be a co-conspirator in her mischief. Blissfully anticipating the fun that the could have (along with a few of the as-yet nameless faces she had seen in the corridors), her mind worked into overdrive as she imagined the next few years at the academy in the span of two minutes.

Masaru had no idea that she was about to experience disillusionment for the first time in her life.

* * *

He noticed her a little while later, after she sat next to him with a small smile and a wave. Five minutes later, he found himself distracted by her restless fingers drumming on the desk, softly tapping out a rhythm that only made sense to her. To others, she was seemingly engrossed in the instructor's explanation of chakra, but the scribbled note on her paper told him otherwise.

 _Hi, I'm Masaru._

A sidelong glance, but no answer.

 _Your mask looks nice._

She watched him hopefully out the corner of her eye, trying to decipher the furrow in his brow as he read and reread her note. Was it confusion? Or intrigue? Finally, he scrawled back a response.

 _I know._

Masaru was disappointed and slightly bemused by the lukewarm response, but it wasn't in her nature to be so for long. She nudged the red-eyed girl on her other side instead, and soon the pair were giggling like old friends.

When class was finally finished, she tried again. Falling in step beside him, she asked, "Kurenai and I were going to ask if we could go to the new ramen stand tonight. Come with us?"

"I'd rather not. You two laugh too much. If I wanted my ears to bleed I'd just do it myself."

And with that, he walked away, leaving a fuming girl in his wake.

* * *

 _Hours later._

"And he's so _rude,_ Mama! He told me I laugh too much! He didn't even say bye or anything! Kurenai, tell her what he said."

Manami didn't have the heart to tell her daughter that on top of the indignity of her laugh being insulted, Masaru's hair was currently swimming in her ramen. The practical Kurenai just shrugged and wisely busied herself with sipping her broth.

"I don't like him at all," Masaru said, as gravely as a five year old could, "In fact, I don't care if Idiot-face wears fifty masks, I'm not going to speak to him ever again." And with that proclamation, she turned to Kurenai and the two chatted blithely, her wounded pride forgotten in the excitement of recounting the rest of the day's events.

Years later, when Manami first saw the stone likeness of her son-in-law's face on the Hokage Rock, she almost laughed herself sick. When questioned, she said, "You know, before Kakashi was the Sixth Hokage, or the Copy-Nin, or Kakashi of the Sharingan, I heard him called by another name…"

* * *

This is my first fic, so constructive criticism is much appreciated. Thanks for reading!


	3. Year 4: Memorial Stones

Two years is a long time to leave something hanging, and for that I'm deeply sorry.

* * *

The second time she snapped at him, she was laying flowers at the stone of a fallen teammate. He'd heard about the disastrous mission already, but catching her in the act of grieving made his heart harden and his teeth clench; for some ridiculous reason, the concept of death seemed utterly foreign in his idea of the girl in front of him.

"Masaru," he began, before she gave him a look that made him wilt. It was so full of grief and anger that at that moment he would have moved heaven and earth to never see it mar her features again.

"If it's something you've read out of that stupid book, I don't want to hear it. You can't tell me that Kaito's death was honourable at all - it was just because that stupid merchant was too cheap to pay for more shinobi," she snapped, turning on him, "Even though he knew what kind of people were after his goods."

Kakashi bristled at her hostility. "You're putting words in my mouth again."

The two of them fumed in silence before she looked away. "Whatever. It isn't like it was your fault. I'll be going now."

With a stiff nod, Masaru turned to leave.

* * *

It's only after she ran as far as she could that she remembered the first time they had both been at the memorial stones. It had been three years ago, and he had been staring blankly at Obito's engraving. In the madness of the day, he had forgotten to bring anything to pay for his respects to the fallen Uchiha; he had been too busy weathering the intense questioning of the clan elders, who seemed more concerned about the 'stolen' Sharingan than the fact that its wielder had died alone and in agony.

"I got some flowers." At the age of 9, loss was still foreign to her, even as a genin. What's more, in Kakashi's prodigious progression through the ninja ranks, she no longer had the constant contact of that distant first year in the academy, and found him almost as unfamiliar as she had the first day they had met.

But her mother had taught her compassion, the sort of compassion that recognized that this maddening boy her age was almost completely alone in spite of his genius, and it had spurred her to meet him when she heard that he had been at that stone for an hour.

"Thank you." His voice was composed but empty. Taking her offered bouquet, he placed it gently on the ground. On second thought, he wasn't all too surprised that she had come; she had, after all, been one of the few that had offered their condolences when his father had died. The carefully prepared bento that her mother had sent with her remained untouched, but the kindness of the memory stuck with him throughout the intervening years.

"Do you want to talk?" She wasn't entirely sure she was equipped to help him much, but she was prepared to listen.

"No."

"I'll see you around then," she said finally, taking her cue to leave. "Take care, Kakashi."

When Rin died soon after, she made her way to him almost immediately, and kept a silent vigil over the ones he had lost.

* * *

It surprised him a little when he found Masaru standing in front of him the next day with a ready apology on her lips. After a moment, he hesitantly tried to offer her the same kindness that she had on that bitter day.

"Want to talk about it?"

A pause, and Masaru looked almost as confused as he felt.

"Do you?" She knew that verbal emotional support wasn't his strong suit.

Another pause. He was uncomfortable enough that he didn't really want to lie and answer in the affirmative. To her credit, Masaru let it pass.

"No, thanks. I'm feeling a bit better now."

Relieved, he said something noncommittal and shoved his hands back into his pockets. But she wasn't finished.

"Do you want to get some ramen with me?" At that, he nodded and motioned for her to lead the way. He understood without her having to verbalize it; she wasn't quite ready to be alone again.

Both of them walked on in companionable silence, and though she knew that it was temporary, the peace did a lot to soothe her aching heart.

* * *

If you enjoy these little drabbles please like and comment!


	4. Year 7: Target Practice

Two in one night just cause I feel so bad for leaving this so long. This one's a little lighter than the previous one, so enjoy!

* * *

Though it genuinely horrified her mother, one of Masaru's more prominent talents was poisoning. And though she considered herself to generally be a good person, and only really resorted to poisons as a desperate last resort, her mischievous streak had grown a mile wide with the opportunities that her growing ninja skills had given her.

This mischievous streak combined with her ability to hold grudges in a way that would've her made her ashamed, if she cared anything about it. As it was, this character flaw was how she found herself trying to poison Kakashi the Copy Ninja's soup with a powerful laxative, for their argument three months ago; though the exact details were fuzzy, the effect of it was strong enough that she decided that this was a fitting punishment.

Her conscience had argued that it would be disastrous if he had to be called away for a mission and couldn't because he was otherwise preoccupied with the unpleasant effects; she argued back that he was currently on leave because of some mandatory checkup - and if absolutely necessary he could be healed quite quickly. Though she fully realized the sheer pettiness of her move, she only did it because she knew he was strong enough to take it. Though it didn't stop her from hoping he suffered at least a little bit.

Concealing herself, she waited until the opportune moment to strike, and surreptitiously snuck the innocent-looking liquid into his broth just before the food was taken to his room. And for maximum efficiency, she decided to put it in the rest of his food as well, just in case.

All that was left to do was wait.

* * *

Not thirty minutes later, a bewildered civilian nurse stepped out into the apparently empty hallway and announced that Kakashi wanted to see 'her'. The poor woman's face was even more confused when Masaru stepped out of nowhere and strode into the room, too annoyed that she had been caught to feign her innocence.

"I didn't even need the Sharingan to know you were up to something," he scoffed as he poured the soup out of the window. "Was this all just because I insulted your taijutsu three months ago?"

Saying nothing, she glowered at him, though she was surprised that he remembered their little spat well enough to connect the dots.

"I thought so," he said, adopting that arrogantly lazy lilt in his voice that he knew infuriated her. "I didn't realize it bothered you that much. I'm sorry."

The apology was completely out of left field, and before Masaru could say anything, he added, "That is, for being too blunt. Your taijutsu really wasn't up to par that day."

Recovering, Masaru decided that it was probably best to accept his apology. It at least showed her that he could perhaps be taught how to give criticisms that leaned more towards constructive than insulting.

"Thanks. You should probably throw the rest of your food away." She was perceptive enough to see his eye widen in surprise, even though the rest of his face was covered; she counted it as a small victory.

"Of course," he said, feigning his continued indifference.

She turned to leave the room, the unexpected apology dissipating her childish annoyance. But just as she was about to close the door, his voice rang out.

"I'll see you in three months." She wasn't sure if the lightness in his voice was real or not, but she returned it gladly.

"See you, Kakashi."

And she knew he'd keep his promise.

* * *

As always, reviews are welcome!


	5. Year 12: The Beginnings of Change

Thank you to curlystruggle for your review! I'll take your suggestions on board, as I am trying to get better with proofreading. The years in the chapter titles coincide with the time they've known each other - so for example year 7 means that they're 12 (since they met at age 5). Hope this helps!

* * *

Yamato had barely finished speaking when Kakashi found himself running to the hospital in at top speed.

Even in the short seconds that transpired between hearing the heart-sinking news and his arrival at her room, he began to conjure up images of Masaru bleeding, in pain, broken. This blind panic only retreated slightly at the sight of her sat on the side of the bed, swinging her feet and lost in her thoughts; twisting around to look at the door, she straightened slightly at the sight of Kakashi and raised her hand in acknowledgment. He took in the sight of the bandages winding their way across her body, underneath her clothes, and felt slightly sick - he knew that the damage must have been extensive.

Not trusting himself to speak just yet, he placed himself in the chair next to her.

"Hi." Her voice was almost inappropriately cheerful.

"You almost died." Due to his excellent control, he didn't betray any sign that would indicate that he had run the fastest mile of his life.

"The key word is almost. _Almost_ died. It's a very important distinction to make." Her attempt at humor was slightly forced; the medic-nin had told her that she had barely made it in time, and the joy of survival was tempered by the reeducation on her own morality. Nevertheless, the mission was completed despite the setbacks, and was still alive to find those worthless mercenaries to pay them back in kind, so she thought it best to joke about her experience lest it overwhelm her. "Besides, they managed to get most of my organs back into me, so I'll count that as a victory."

He tried to level a glare at her, but failed to summon any of his usual gravitas.

"That's not funny," he said, leaning back. "You almost died." Belatedly, he realized he had repeated himself, and was slightly embarrassed at sounding like a broken record.

"I noticed," she replied, furrowing her eyebrows in annoyance.

It was strange - her talent in assassination having caught the eye of the Hokage, she had been working as ANBU almost as long as he had, but he had never seen her come out of a mission with any injury more than a broken limb. Perhaps that was why he had been so panicked at the thought of her on the edge of death. Though he had come to terms with the inevitability of death over the years, up until that day he had never even considered applying that mindset to Masaru. She occupied a strange part of his life, constantly and inextricably linked with the shinobi world that he had made his life's work, but also strangely separate in a way that he had always found incomprehensible.

As he continued to reflect, she took his silence in stride and spoke again, feeling slightly ashamed of her mulishness.

"It's the nature of political intrigues, unfortunately. Information trades hands, we try to keep up and hopefully don't end up on the wrong side of a shady bargain. Besides, you shouldn't even know that I'm here. What's the point in calling the mission classified?"

Snapping back to reality, he gave her a slight shrug. "It's useful to know these things."

"Hm," was all she said. A comfortable silence crept over them, as she gazed over his head and resumed her contemplation of the sky. Kakashi noted that though her face had been an open book as a small child, years of training meant that her expression was often one of studied blankness. Not that that ever really stopped him from knowing what she was thinking, he thought wryly. She had never truly shied away from talking to him candidly in a way that made their fellow ANBU flinch, and she had only grown bolder of late.

"You're right though," Masaru said finally, breaking his reverie. "It isn't funny. It was terrible. I genuinely thought that I was going to die in that room." Somehow, she felt like she was talking both to Kakashi and herself.

Her serene expression didn't budge, but Kakashi detected a sorrow in her voice that made his heart constrict.

"But it was a wake-up call," she said. "To be honest, Kakashi, I think that lately I've lost my way."

Tilting his head slightly, he waited for her to continue. Catching his eye, she gave him a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"I'm ANBU because they need me to be. But all these solo missions - I've spent the last few years of my life in silence, and in the shadows, and so often I'm alone. It made me realize that if I'm not careful, soon it'll be all I have."

As clever as he was, he had no idea what he could say. All rational explanations - that she was doing important work, that the ninja way of life was integral to their village, that to have gotten as far as she had was a great honor - they all seemed flimsy in the face of her vulnerability. And so he stayed silent, though he hated himself for it.

"You feel like that too, sometimes." It was half statement, half question, one that he didn't particularly feel inclined to answer; though he did suspect she already knew what it would be.

"Yes," he said hesitantly. Not wanting to breed misery, he quickly added, "You know, you can always come to me."

The words that came out of his mouth surprised him somewhat. Friendship had never really been on the cards, not since Team Minato's demise, but it also seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Of course Masaru could turn to him; although he wasn't outwardly affectionate in the same manner as people like Gai, he valued her. Some would have called it weakness, but at that moment he didn't care.

Masaru was visibly touched by the sign of friendship in his offer, and gave him a smile, a real smile.

"And _you_ can always come to me," she said sincerely.

 _She's beautiful when she smiles,_ Kakashi thought suddenly. _When did that happen?_

Before he could fully comprehend his own thoughts, he sensed the approach of a nurse and quickly stood up. Masaru quirked her eyebrow at him and waved goodbye as he jumped nimbly out of the window; as she reflected on their conversation, she knew that the heaviness that had been slowly building on her felt slightly lighter, and she was thankful.

But though Masaru slept deeply that night, Kakashi wasn't as lucky. As he revisited his memory, he wondered at her unexpected effect on him; but conscious of the possible consequences of this train of thought, he quashed down all opportunity for any sort of epiphany.

However, despite his best efforts, his scattered dreams that night were strangely fixated on the warmth of a certain pair of pretty brown eyes.

* * *

Reviews are always welcome!


	6. Year 15: An Open Secret

Have a little bit more fluff, if you want.

* * *

Though it took Kakashi no time at all to conclude that he had a partiality for Masaru, it took him the better part of two years to finally accept that it was romantic in nature. And despite his reluctance to say anything, it only took a moment of indulgence on his side and a paltry few months on her's to start suspecting him.

* * *

It was a sprig of yellow flowers placed in a beautiful ceramic vase that tipped her off. Having gone for 20 years without receiving anything of the sort, Masaru was at first very suspicious of the innocuous gift left at her door. After all, it could have been a particularly clever ruse designed to harm her in some way - paranoia had saved her life before.

But after spending much time examining it, she happily concluded that it was, in fact, exactly what it appeared to be, and gingerly carried it inside, admiring it the whole way.

 _How sweet,_ she thought, placing it on her kitchen counter and gently running her fingers over the delicate petals. _I didn't even think people did_ _things like this anymore. I wonder who it could be from?_

Trying to rack her brains for any possible suspect, she continued to admire the flowers. There was something oddly familiar about this gift, though she couldn't quite place her finger on what it was. It wasn't the vase, she decided. Finery in any form never really featured in her life, and the vase, though pretty, wasn't ringing any bells. The flowers she could identify as camellias, and she almost blushed when she remembered what it symbolized. But neither aspect really gave her any leads as to the identity of her possible secret admirer - only that he was definitely a romantic.

It was only when she absentmindedly looked around her room that the feeling of déjà vu became clear. Her gaze landing on her bookshelf, it struck her that the idea was lifted straight from a novel; in fact, the same novel that Kakashi had let her borrow not two weeks before. Trying to process the link, she hurriedly yanked the book from the shelf and found the passage. There it was, word for word, the description of how the hero had left his beloved a token of his secret affection.

"No way," she breathed, looking first at the page, then back at the flowers, then back again. A slightly fantastic notion was forming in her head, one that she tried to reason away. Kakashi, leave her flowers like some lovesick schoolboy? She wasn't even sure that he welcomed the possibility of romantic love; his fondness for romance novels notwithstanding, he had never even shown the slightest hint interest in anyone he had come into contact with. Surely it wasn't him. She couldn't reconcile the Kakashi she knew with one who used a secret flower language to make declarations of love.

Hearing a knock on her door, Masaru quickly put the book back. She wasn't sure that she wanted to share her suspicions just yet. And when she realized who it was, she was doubly determined not to even allude to the subject.

"It's me." Kakashi's voice was slightly muffled through her door.

Peeking through her peephole, Masaru briefly considered not letting him in. But it _had_ been several months since she had last seen her friend, and old loyalty won over her newfound confusion. Opening her door, she beckoned Kakashi in, watching him carefully.

"Hey," she said, tone completely casual. He responded to her greeting with a noncommittal grunt, and leaned against her countertop. He was, Masaru noted with a kind of self-suffering resignation, not two feet away from the object of her current confusion. Forcing a smile, she sat down.

"Did I interrupt you? You only just got back from your mission, I'm guessing." Masaru only half heard his words, instead closely watching his face and trying to catch out any sort of strangeness in his expression; he had definitely seen the flowers, but gave no reaction. Come to think of it, she wasn't even sure what she was looking for, having never really seen the face of someone quietly nursing a secret love. Not unless she counted Asuma, but that was definitely not a one-sided situation.

Realizing he expected her to answer, she gave a rote reply, trying to cover up her wandering train of thought. And so the conversation went for some time, a lopsided affair that Masaru was only partly present for. He gave no indication that he noticed this, however, and bid his goodbye after their customary catch-up. For the first time in a long time, she was glad to see him leave. His presence, which she was sure would eventually dispel her suspicions, only served to confuse her further.

But as it was, with his back turned, she had no way of seeing the fleeting look of satisfaction that crossed his face. Having looked discreetly around the room, he was secretly ecstatic that she had chosen to take the camellias in. At her prolonged absence, he had allowed his sentimentality to override his usual stoicism, and he had left the flowers without truly thinking it through; it was only after he left that it occurred to him that she may think that it was too cheesy and trite.

Though he was too late to prevent her from discovering them, he was glad that while it turned out much better than he hoped. He didn't think his heart could take it if she had teased her supposedly secret admirer; though she couldn't have known it, he had left himself incredibly vulnerable in that moment.

* * *

In the weeks that followed, Masaru kept a close eye on Kakashi. Every word, every gesture. She began to notice how his hand lingered on her in the most innocent circumstances, and how his voice sounded more gentle when he addressed her. Soon, she was very much convinced that he had a soft spot for her, and spent far too much time arguing with herself over whether she was reading too deeply into their relationship.

Despite her growing conviction, Masaru decided not to confront the problem head on. Part of her wasn't even sure it was him who left the flowers to begin with, though her heart whispered that it couldn't be anybody else. And even if it was, that didn't mean that she could just say she knew, just like that. He had, after all, left the flowers anonymously for a reason, and had chosen to keep any feelings for her under wraps. Besides, even in all this newfound uncertainty, she knew beyond doubt that he was a proud man, one who never did things without reason, and she respected him well enough to let him have his pride.

And if she was being honest with herself, her silence benefitted her as well. Though she scolded herself for being immature, she knew that her discovery had opened up a slew of possibilities that she couldn't face just yet. Masaru was flattered, of course, but to go as far as say she reciprocated? It was too much, too soon. So for now, she was content with playing her role as the unwitting - it was easier that way.

So why did she feel so restless?

* * *

Reviews are always welcome!


	7. Year 16: The Kiss

Two chapters, because why not?

* * *

Masaru had often read many stories where the revelation of love came after a life-changing event - often the hero and heroine were in the midst of battle, the moment of clarity happening when one was almost ripped away from the other.

As it so happened, for her that unexpected moment of clarity came while she was in her apartment, doing her laundry.

* * *

It was a passing couple on the street that triggered it, as she moved to dump her clothes on her bed. The love they showed each other was nothing showy, but it was sweet, and Masaru found herself looking at them wistfully. As prone as her mind was to creating scenarios, she immediately sketched out a world where she was in their position; it wasn't the first time she imagined her romantic future with a currently-unknown-beloved, but this fantasy had a key difference.

Her mind had conjured up a vision of her and Kakashi, laughing and smiling at each other like fools in love. It was so vivid that she almost felt the phantom pressure of his hand, and could see his face, so tantalizingly close to hers.

It took her a second to understand the ramifications of that thought, and she froze, dropping the freshly washed basket of clothes on the floor. Where had that image come from?

Not that it was completely out of the blue; she had long suspected that she held some admiration for her friend and comrade, but Masaru had always shrugged it off as a by-product of his constant presence and his handsome face. She was less ready to admit that this girlish admiration was partly fueled by how flattered she felt since she discovered that he had also developed an infatuation for her, but still, she refused to admit that it was _that_ serious.

That was all it was, a stepping stone crush, one that she could easily have had on anyone; a crush she would have gotten over by the time she developed feelings that were real and substantial. It never occurred to her that those feelings would have targeted the same person.

But as she slowly picked up her now ruined washing, it dawned on her that this discovery was by no means revolutionary. How many times had Kakashi been on her mind without her realizing? How many times had she seen something and was reminded of him, or had heard a story that she knew he'd like and wanted to share it with him. Not to mention how often she had found herself wanting to talk to him, cherishing the times they simply enjoyed each other's presence. And now, how she'd been so ready to imagine sharing _something_ with him, she realized how she had always unconsciously compared other men to him.

In all this time, no one else had even come close.

She sat on the floor, determined to untangle this mess in her mind. The more she recollected, the more amazed she was. At herself, for not knowing her own heart sooner. And at Kakashi, for being able to keep his feelings quiet as he could for as long as he had. How did he do it? She'd only been sure for ten minutes, and she was desperate to talk to him, though she wasn't sure what she would even say. All doubt of his affection for her had cleared in the excitement of the moment; she knew she had to seize the opportunity before she shied away from it.

 _I have to see him._

Abandoning her already neglected task, she sprinted to his house.

* * *

Masaru had been lurking outside Kakashi's window for some time, and he wasn't entirely sure why. Sure, she had recently developed the habit of coming into his apartment to borrow certain items like sugar and books, but she had always tapped on the pane to let him know she was there. At first he let her hover, deciding that he would give her time to come to grips with whatever she was trying to do, but his curiosity eventually got the better of him.

Opening the window, he leant out and greeted her.

"Why have you been breathing outside of my house for twenty minutes?"

She didn't answer, instead climbing in and placing herself on the side of his bed, fiddling with her hands in agitation. He refused to let his thoughts wander down _that_ path as he stood in front of her, and steadfastly looked at her face, once again focused on convincing himself that he regarded her completely platonically.

 _Damn it,_ he thought, _it's not working._

He was saved from his traitorous self by her talking. However, as she had clearly run through different iterations of this conversation in her mind a hundred times, the words that poured out of her mouth initially confused him.

"So obviously it looks like I'm only saying this because I know about you - at least I _really_ hope that I'm not wrong about that, but it's not like that, I swear. I probably would have confessed even if I didn't know, at least I think I would...not that it would really matter because that's not how it happened. And it might seem like I'm only here on a whim, coming so suddenly like this, but I know it's not...it's been going on much longer than I thought and I don't know _how_ , but I do know feelings like that don't go so easily. I guess - only if you want to, of course - I guess I'm saying that it might be risky, but how would we know if we didn't try?"

As she drew breath, trying to explain her opening, Kakashi began to have an inkling of what she was trying to say.

"Are you saying that you know about how I feel?"

A pause. She nodded, unable to meet his eyes. He continued, and dared not hope too much for her answer.

"And you said you want to try...are you saying you feel the same way?"

Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and answered him.

"Yes."

One small word, and it made his heart soar.

Letting it propel him into action, he pulled down his mask and leaned down to kiss her. It was quick and chaste, but as he pulled back, he could see that her face had flushed faintly red. Before a coherent explanation could form completely in his mind, she rendered it unnecessary by returning the kiss more passionately and deeply than he could have hoped; a thrill went up his spine as she gave a breathless little moan.

He responded by pulling her closer, and surrendered himself completely to her touch. His entire world in that moment was Masaru - how she felt under his fingers, the scent of her hair, the softness of her lips.

Minutes passed before they broke apart. In their need to get closer to each other, she had wrapped her legs around him, lying back and pulling him on top of her. To his surprise, his right hand had made its way down her body, squeezing her thigh; and though he knew he should probably be embarrassed, he decided he quite rather enjoyed it. Not that she really minded; after all, her hand had been shamelessly trying to get into his flak jacket. Shifting them so that they were both lying on their sides, Kakashi took the opportunity to let the realization of what had happened truly sink in.

He was almost scared that the happiness would overwhelm him.

She wasn't experienced enough in giving amorous declarations like the characters in the cheap novels she had stolen off of Kakashi, so she remained silent too, content just to close her eyes and bury her face in his shoulder. Whatever they had just unleashed, they could look at with a clear, practical view at some point in the near future. For now, the feeling of Kakashi holding her banished all thoughts of rationality.

"How?" His voice was so gentle, she almost melted. Shifting her head so she could look at him properly, she pondered her answer.

"How did I know about you, or how did I know about me?"

"Both."

"Well," she said, reaching up to trace his impossibly sharp jawline with her index finger, "I knew you left those flowers for me. I've been borrowing your trashy romance novels, remember?"

He didn't know quite how he should look - that she had known for that long was frankly embarrassing, but decided that being caught out by his limited casual reading didn't have the worst consequences. Rather than try defend himself, he simply waited for her to continue.

"I thought it was sweet, but maybe it's best you don't consult the book for romantic advice anymore." She giggled at her own joke for a moment, then her expression turned serious.

"And for me...," Masaru said slowly, trying to give shape to her feelings which had been so confused not three hours ago, "You always read about people who are willing to die for each other. Dying is one thing, but living with someone... _for_ someone, that's something different altogether. And when I really thought about it, I knew that you're one of the reasons I get through my day, and that it would make me almost stupidly happy to live out my life side by side with you. If you'll have me."

Though she was embarrassed to say it out loud, she made herself look straight at him as she said it, willing him to understand that every word she said was true. As she saw the emotion flicker behind his eyes, she wondered how anyone could ever say that Kakashi was unfeeling.

"I...you already know how I feel. You've already said everything I wanted to say, much better than I could have." Words failing him by the end, he kissed her again, trying to convey everything he couldn't say in that moment.

For the next half hour they were blissfully unaware of the world around them.

* * *

Reviews would be greatly appreciated!


	8. Year 18: Room with a View

An especially short one this time, but hopefully just as sweet.

* * *

On the odd occasion when she woke before Kakashi, her thoughts tended to follow a certain groove. Her reverie almost always started while she admired the contours of his features, and often grew sad as she struggled to recall a time when he voluntarily released all tension from his body. To an untrained eye, Kakashi was constantly slouching, irreverent; but she knew that it was a carefully acted farce, to throw off the unknown enemy he was always convinced was only a knife's throw away. Even though it had been a long time since she had noticed, it still continued to hurt her, knowing that he was a man constantly on his guard, expecting the worst from a world that had never promised him anything better.

Unguarded. She sometimes wondered if there was ever going to be a time when he would be like this during the waking hours, some distant future when they had time to heal instead of gritting their teeth and working through their wounds. It was one of the few things she let herself be bitter about, the improbability of such a time; she hadn't really cared that much before, letting herself daydream wistful scenarios that she could easily laugh off once she had gotten bored of them. But now, with the knowledge of what romance could be and the happiness it could yield, she was impatient. Kakashi was _real,_ not the phantom lovers she'd conjured up for years, and she wished for the things that other couples seemed to take for granted, like a future that wasn't threatened by a ridiculously high death rate. And so she would sometimes spend the last few minutes before he woke up to sketch out the possible futures they could have, ranging from farmlands to children to travelling long distances to beautifully remote spots.

 _Surely I'm allowed that much,_ she'd think, slipping back to reality. _It's childish, but it keeps me from wondering how many different ways either of us could meet our end._

Kakashi noticed that there were often mornings when Masaru was melancholy, and so made sure to hold her tighter, willing her to understand that he wanted to be there for her, whatever the trouble was.

* * *

The first time Kakashi woke up after Masaru, he panicked. The empty space beside him led him to suspect the worst had happened; when he saw her appear by the doorway only seconds after, muttering something about needing to use the toilet, he chastised himself. It was only after that he began to feel self-conscious - how many times had she seen him like this, at his most vulnerable? It was weeks before he grew to be comfortable with the thought.

He still preferred being the first to wake, though, if only to see the peace that enveloped Masaru during sleep. The thoughts that ran through his brain in those moments weren't very coherent, but he marveled at how quickly that same peace worked its way into his mind. Her even breathing, so alike to everyone else yet so different, calmed him, and he often found himself wishing that the moment would stretch out into eternity. His mind flitted from place to place, but always in a large circle, centered around the sleeping woman in his arms.

It was, in fact, those early mornings that he allowed himself those flights of fancy that he often teased Masaru about. The circumstances in those visions always shifted, the details always hazy - he didn't quite have the same gift for creating whole worlds out of nothing that she did - but at the centre was always the two of them, together.

 _If I'm not careful, I'll accidentally let it slip that Hatake Kakashi has a soft side,_ he'd think, slipping back to reality. _But right now it doesn't matter._

The affectionate smile that Kakashi gave her in the mornings was one of Masaru's favorite parts of her day - it lit up his face and softened the hard expression he often defaulted on.

Maybe their destiny wasn't something to despair at after all.


End file.
